East West and Upside Down

Leaving Asia

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 18:46:00 +0000

On July 4th I left Asia.

It has been a wonderful 4 years and I was so very lucky to see and do all I saw and did.

Now we are in British Columbia, in Qualicum Beach on Vancouver Island, exploring a new life in a new place.

New life, new blog. Follow my new tales...

Life on the Left Coast

It's Done

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 01:32:00 +0000

Once upon a time...

Yesterday...

Rebecca doing load out inventory duty. All I had to do on loading day was show up at the end and sign the papers.

At the end of the day, Rebecca and I said our good-bye's. She took good care of our home; we had the cleanest house in all of Manila. Now, after 4 years, I will have to learn how to use the washing machine.

All our worldly possessions in a 40-foot container. Estimated arrival in the port of Vancouver is July 23rd.

Now...

Unfortunately I have let stress into my body this past week and I will be navigating the next days of parties, lunches and dinners with all the bittersweet goodbye's in a very weakened state with a killer cold, the first in years. There's time, I trust, to get better before my flight on Monday.

3 Days, 9 Days, 15 Days...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 02:24:00 +0000

...and Counting.

This is our last weekend of peace, quiet and order in our apartment and I am enjoying it. It's a rainy Sunday morning and Manila from my window is buried in fog and wet. On Wednesday the move begins in earnest. That is the day the movers come in and start packing. A week Tuesday they will load us out of here and we'll be off to the hotel. The following Monday (July 4) I'll be on the plane.

In between sorting, selling (220volt appliances mostly) and gifting, I've spent most of the past week designing the new blog. I don't recall this one being quite so complicated when I built it 4 years ago but I suppose it's because instead of using a basic template I'm changing it up and customizing it a whole lot more which has required learning a bit about coding. This is taking hours and hours of nit-picking, which suits me fine and distracts me beautifully from thoughts of the chaos that is coming my way.

I've decided to create this new blog for the new life, partially because I don't want to disappoint both of my readers, but mostly because I've had a blast writing this one. It's turned out to be a great memory maker of the last 4 years and when I go back and reread parts I'm always smiling. A picture or a cartoon or a joke or a story brings back the sights, sounds, smells and feelings. Even "in memory" posts brings me back to the lives before the passing, and I still smile.

My blog is not open, meaning it will not be found through a search engine, nor does it show up on Blogger lists. I'm not interested in a wide audience. It's still for family and friends (and, as it turns out, their family and friends) and I'll keep the next one that way too. Every now and then I'll get an email from someone I didn't know was reading it and that's always way fun, but for the most part I write for me, which solves the issue of "finding my voice". Finding inspiration comes with the curiosity. I see something or hear something or think of something that sparks the urge to write about it, a fine way to entertain myself.

It also may be a way of deluding myself to believe that I'm compensating for my lazy-making habits of not staying in touch often enough!

Planet Earth Wants You to Leave

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 22:51:00 +0000

I've been a little frustrated over the past week or two with the news coverage of the volcano that has been erupting in Chile. For several days on BBC and CNN there were endless scenes of the Sydney airport and the usual interviews with frustrated travelers who aren't able to travel because flights are canceled due to the volcanic ash above the southern Pacific. Whining travelers seemed to be the big story.

So I went looking for pictures of the real story.

Ivan Alvarado/Reuters

Claudio Santana/AFP/Getty Images

More volcano pictures at The Big Picture.

Meanwhile, this from The Onion:

EARTH—According to a statement released to the press Tuesday, the planet Earth has "just about run out of ways" to let its roughly 6.9 billion human inhabitants know it wants them all to leave.

Following a recent series of disastrous floods along the Mississippi River and destructive tornadoes across much of the United States—as well as a year of even deadlier natural catastrophes all over the world—the Earth said its options for strongly implying that it no longer wants human beings living on it have basically been exhausted.

"At this point, I think I've stated my wishes quite loudly and clearly," the Earth's statement to all of humanity read in part. "I haven't exactly been subtle about it, you realize. I have literally tried to drown you, crush you, starve you, dehydrate you, pump you full of diseases, and suck your homes and families into swirling vortices of death. Honestly, what more is it going to take for you people to get the message?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" the statement continued. "Get the fuck out of here. I want you to leave now."

The Earth says all it can do at this point is keep manufacturing disasters and hope humanity finally "wises up."

The statement went on to list thousands of incidents in 2011 alone that the Earth claimed were "solely and unmistakably" designed to inform the human race that it might be time to move on, including the devastating tsunami that caused thousands of deaths in Japan, an earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand, that killed an estimated 181 people, and historic rainstorms in Colombia that destroyed entire communities with deadly landslides.

The planet Earth also singled out an ongoing drought in China that has left more than 2.3 million people with a shortage of fresh water as "a pretty big goddamned tip-off, wouldn't you say?"

While the Earth had hoped the human race might finally "get the picture" following one of the harshest winter storm years in recorded history, it instead found that people simply went on with their lives, occasionally making reference to disaster victims in their thoughts and prayers but showing no intention whatsoever of preparing themselves for a long trip through the far reaches of space to find a new home.

"I know your species has developed the technology to leave me, I've seen you use it before, so I'm asking you now, please, just take the hint already," read another excerpt from the Earth's statement, which added that it would really be best for all concerned if humanity were to "trundle off to some other biosphere for a while." "You can't possibly be enjoying this, can you? Honestly, you would have to be completely deranged or masochistic to continue staying here."

Immediately after delivering the statement, the Earth ignited a series of wildfires throughout the world's arid regions.

Though some scientists have responded to Earth's message with theories as to precisely what the planet might be trying to communicate, most firmly acknowledged that further study would be required before any definitive evidence could be gleaned from the "fascinating" statement.

"Certainly these utterances from the Earth are strongly worded, but at this point it is difficult to say whether they speak to a larger trend or are simply a bio-geological anomaly," Dr. Roger Summons of MIT said. "While there seems to be an implication that the Earth wants us to go away and never come back, I, for one, can't say conclusively from either a geochemical or a meteorological standpoint whether this is in fact the case."
In a sharp rebuke to both the planet and the mainstream scientific community, Republican leaders in Congress responded this week with a scathing critique of what they deemed to be the Earth's "pathetic and extremist viewpoints."

"What we're seeing here is the same old scientific mumbo jumbo and partisan rhetoric that the Earth has been spewing out for millennia," Sen. Jim Inhofe (R-OK) said. "We're not going to be bullied by a celestial body that has time and again failed to deliver on its promise to glorify and reward mankind with its bounty."

Immediately following these statements from the human race, the Earth emitted a loud sigh, which shifted multiple tectonic plates and caused massive earthquakes on five continents.

Blast from the Past

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 08:48:00 +0000

This old trunk is a particular favourite of mine. It belonged to my father, so far back in time it was from his Merchant Marine days pre- and during the second World War when he sailed the world's seas. It still has some of the old traveling stickers on it, including one where I can still see his very recognizable handwriting.

It is a solid piece, still in good condition. The inside, with its stacked drawers, is lined in fabric that is dingy and worn and I remember that once upon a time I considered restoring it, another of my many projects that exists only in my imagination. I haven't opened it since some time before 2001, I can't even remember when last I did. In our previous house in Ottawa, for 5 years it served as our television stand in the corner of the family room.

Well today I did open it and the term "blast from the past" sounds too lame and rock and roll to describe it. What really happened was a grenade exploded in my face.

I had forgotten what was in it. More to the point, what I thought was in it, was not. I thought that among other things it was filled with old dolls of mine. That's what used to be, but somewhere along the years I had thrown them out I guess. As I think of it, I kind of wish there was one I had kept. Along with the old motley crew was a very refined and stylish doll with a couture wardrobe hand-stitched by my Aunt Peggy. That would be nice to see again, but must not have survived one of my very occasional ruthless purges. However, I did find two little boxes of knitted clothes for Angelique and Satoochi. I'm all by myself, but I'm laughing and laughing out loud. How did THAT survive the years? Along with that on the first layer were half a dozen pairs of cotton gloves - some wrist length and some elbow length. My mother's.

I removed the top drawer, and there on the second level was an old wedding dress from a former life. WTF??? Along with that were piles of really old, past generation at least, tablecloths with that distinctive ancient, musty smell that permeates the inside of the trunk. I lifted out that drawer to reach the bottom level and all hell broke loose in my mind.

There, I found stacks of shoe and stationery boxes filled with photos, letters, old received thank-you and Christmas cards, postcards, boxes of costume jewelery and fossils. These all belonged to my mother. There were journals and souvenirs from her trips to places like the Galapagos and Machu Pichu, old worn address books, term papers and a pile of expired passports. At the very bottom were envelopes filled with wedding photos from her marriage to my father in London, England. They had met on a ship on her way to South Africa. She was a young schoolteacher on her way to spend a year there on a teacher exchange program, where she had a complete blast and fell in love with Africa. He was the dashing Chief Engineer on the ship she was traveling on. Apparently the trip was far too short for both of them so after a year of letter writing she traveled to London to join him, and the next chapter unfolded. That would be me and my brother.

Surprisingly, as they hadn't lived together in years, there still were a few things of my Dad's. Inside a small leather case with his embossed initials I found an intriguing and beautiful certificate that had been awarded to him, Brother James William Burns, in 1942 from the Grand Lodge of Ancient Free and Accepted Masons of Scotland, appointing him the degree of Master Mason. On the heading is the iconic Masons eye shining over everything.

I had thought I knew where any remaining papers and things of my Mother's were. I had no idea that there was all this lying dormant in the trunk. I think I know what happened. After my mother died on June 15, 1994 I eventually had to go through her room and sort through and dispose of her belongings. She lived with us at the time in Washington, DC. I now remember being in the closet removing her clothes to send away. However when it came to going through the papers and photos and such, I was paralyzed. A neighbor reassured me, "Don't push it. Just pack everything in boxes for your move and don't bother looking at it now". So I did. In the past 17 years since she died I've carted this stuff around. Sometimes it moves from box to trunk as it did now, but I still hold on to it and still don't look through it. Still paralyzed. Recently, meaning within the last 4 years, I did finally get around to shredding her piles of 20 year-old bank statements. But other than that, I have never really looked through it, just glanced around the edges.

So, what did I do now? Little Miss Sort and Toss as I've become in recent years? Well, guess what, I shoved it all back into the trunk, closed and locked it up again. "I'll look at this when I'm settling in to the new house", I tell myself for the fourth time (having moved 4 times since Washington). Likely to happen?

But here's the thing. Despite my fleeting thoughts of sorting, tossing and organizing things into something that makes sense, maybe instead it makes more sense to keep things the way they are, with the musty smells, and old familiar handwriting, and little jolts of recognition of long forgotten objects. Sometime, whenever the boxes and trunk are next opened, again I'll experience this huge explosion of surprise and recognition and emotion and memories. The trunk opens and the past spills out. Could be a good thing when I really think about it.

But not too often. Every 5 or 10 years would be OK with me.

4 Weeks and ...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 00:12:00 +0000

...Counting

Source

I was sitting by the window in the bedroom last night looking out the window. Past sunset, which is early here closer to the equator, by 7:00 the sky was dark and the city lights sparkled. It was clear enough to see 3 planes stacked up at a time, approaching the runway by the airport. The upside down quarter moon was shining through a bit of high cloud haze.Through my binoculars I watched the nightly fireworks way way out by Manila Bay.

I've already talked about the view as way up there on the list of things I appreciate here and the fireworks are part of that. The best night here by far was last New Year's Eve - what a blast - literally. I am SO glad we decided to stay in Manila to see that.

We are now weeks away from leaving. The movers come in 2 1/2 weeks to start packing, in 3 1/2 weeks they load everything on a truck and take it away to put in storage for 2 months. In 4 weeks and 2 days I'll be on a plane heading for Vancouver Island. For good this time.

I've timed my departure to arrive at my favorite spot by the water in Victoria on July 4th, American Independence Day. Why? The Fireworks. The house faces San Juan Island on the American side of the Strait and I intend to be sitting outside that night with my binoculars watching the show, as I did last year. You can see several different Fourth of July fireworks celebrations going off from different parts of the island. Impressive, even from such a distance. Of course arriving after a voyage of 18 hours, I may have to prop my eyelids open.

It's time to leave. That's starting to sink in now. On Friday afternoon I returned to mah jong after an absence of several weeks to find that more people are leaving. This past year has been hard with so many friends departing. People are hosting going away lunches and dinners for us this month and "good byes" are starting. Meanwhile although I'm still straddling the Pacific as it were, a foot on each side (what an image, inner thigh burn) my attention is turning more and more to the other side. My internet prowling is starting to move away from Asia (although there are a couple of sites I will follow for some time, I'm sure) to searching Vancouver Island. I'm sad to leave Asia, very sad, but at the same time my new home is starting to spark some interest. Summer events are starting to appear in my calendar and I'm finding places I'd like to visit including a couple of Northern Gulf Islands not too far from us.

I think there is another great adventure in my future. Soon come.

Miniatures in Taiwan

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 25 May 2011 00:38:00 +0000

Rose Mansion by Reginald Twigg

The reason I wanted to go to Taiwan was to see the Miniatures Museum in Taipei. Opened in 1997, this is a private museum built to house the collection of Lin Wen Jen and his wife. They had been collecting miniatures picked up on their travels for years and have commissioned major pieces from some of the world's best miniature artists. There are hundreds of displays of dollhouses, room boxes, historical back street scenes, toy soldiers, fantasyscapes and sculptured dolls. There's a miniature Buckingham Palace and also this enormous pink house called Rose Mansion which believe it or not was the PhD thesis of one Reginald Twigg. (I think I feel another advanced degree coming on).This 1885 mansion was once a Los Angeles landmark, since demolished. Twigg was studying the history of architecture and constructing this house was part of his dissertation. His original sponsors were in a tragic accident killing the husband and seriously injuring the wife, and the Lins stepped in to support the project through its completion. Historical research and construction of the 1:12 scale house took over 4 years. Mr. Lin considers this piece to be the center of the collection, pleased he could have contributed to its creation. It greats you as you walk into the first room of the museum and he uses it in his logo. Just looking at all those exterior wood tiles makes me laugh. I too put them on one by one on the roof of my one room witch's house, a Halloween project. It took me over a year to finish the roof. All my projects, no matter what they are or done in what medium, take forever. It might be called attention deficit.

Halloween Witch's House, since completed. It only comes out for the month of October.

Click on any of these pictures to see a larger, clearer view.

Within hours of landing in Taipei, we were at the museum, and I was beyond thrilled to see included in the collection about half a dozen room boxes created by the American miniaturist Brooke Tucker. I have admired her work for years and years but until now had only seen it in magazines.

This Brooke Tucker boy's room was commissioned by Lin Wen-Jen for his grandson. I had seen it before in a magazine and couldn't believe my eyes when there it was, "live" in the museum.

This miniature miniature train set in the corner actually works!

The first two pictures are where I first saw this room box - I scanned it from a 1998 issue of Miniature Collector magazine. The darker pictures are ones I took through the plexiglass of the museum display last week. My miniature jones goes way way back. I still have issues from 1988 of the now defunct Nutshell News (or Nutcase News as Maristella used to call it, and she'll get no argument from me). However the real beginnings are to be found when I was 8 or so, when I built a two-room apartment on a shelf (room boxes?) for Angelique and Satoochi. I never played with Barbie, only with these 2. They are now spending their retirement on proud display with their 2nd generation buddies from the 1990's. Can't wait for the fad to come around again.

Angelique and Satoochi

More museum room boxes from Brooke Tucker (unfortunately the colors aren't true, lighting and plexiglass not being kind to me, but you get the drift):

This sunken living room scene was the largest room box Brooke had created. It took her a year to complete. Compared to my creations that is blisteringly fast!

Saltwater aquarium. I don't THINK it works! You never know.

I went to Taipei with a half-full carry-on. I came back with a still not full carry-on. This is a first. Usually I have to buy another suitcase for all the loot I buy or at the very least my carry-on is stuffed and so heavy I have to check it. So why? Nothing to buy in Taiwan? Au contraire, I brought home miniatures from the National Palace Museum gift store. It won't all fit in my Treasure Shop so I'm contemplating what kind of new scene this might all fit beautifully in.

Meanwhile here's more pictures of the almost (never) finished Treasure Shop (Little Shop of Treasures).

A Daring Raid on Taipei

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 20 May 2011 08:52:00 +0000

The night before we were supposed to leave for Taiwan I was awake almost all night listening to the wind against our windows. A typhoon was passing through to the north making me crazy at the thought of our trip ahead. At 6:00 in the morning, instead of getting in the car as planned to go to the airport, I was on the phone to Philippine Airlines, paying them NOT to fly that day.

The next day was fine however, and off we went, an easy 2-hour flight (Toronto to Halifax, Vancouver to San Francisco). Taipei International Airport wins my prize for the best, by far, immigration process. There were no line-ups. Zero. By the way, the worst, by far, is Istanbul, followed by the non-resident line in Vancouver and Bangkok.

After checking into our (great) little hotel, we hit the sidewalk, off to the Miniatures Museum which was one of our reasons for being there. On the way we decided to look for lunch and ended up in the back street where there were a string of little noodle shops catering to office workers in the nearby buildings. Not a single word of English on any sign, but marvelous sights and smells. We ended up going to the one place that at least had a picture of a bowl of soup in front and ended up having a wonderful conversation with the owner/cooks about what was for lunch. This was the first of quite a few conversations we had where neither party had a single word of the other's language. (I exaggerate. I actually know 2 words of Chinese). Somehow it all just works out and if you're really hopelessly stuck at some point understanding, it all ends up in a shrug and a smile. Kind of like my mother-in-law who is hard of hearing - when she really can't hear after trying mightily, she shrugs, shakes her head and smiles widely. All is well.

Of course, we went to the Botanical Gardens, an oasis in the middle of the city, frequented by retired folk and school groups, in mid-morning.

Malaysian Night Heron at the Taipei Botanical Gardens

The Metro was spotless and orderly and extremely easy to navigate.

Venerable Master Hsing Yun, Monk Caligrapher

Longshan Temple

Another reason we were there was to visit the Museum of Looted Chinese Antiquities, more officially known as the National Palace Museum. In 1949 when the Nationalists were defeated by the Communists in the Civil War, Chiang Kai Shek, as he left for Formosa (Taiwan), took whatever was left of the contents of Shanghai museum with him, having earlier taken what was in the Beijing palace and museum. The really heavy bronzes remain today in the lower level of the Shanghai Museum. Of course some say that given what happened later with that genocidal bastard Mao Tse Tung and his so-called cultural revolution perhaps the ancient artifacts were protected in their new home on Ilha Formosa (which means "beautiful island" in Portugese).

The National Palace Museum in Taipei was great. They have a lot of fun multi-media stuff. For example, in the Chinese flower painting exhibit where the images are intricately detailed and delicate looking and don't show all that well displayed under glass, they have set up little screens where you can zoom in on the painting on display (well virtually). You can actually "play" with the art and appreciate it so much more. A gallery like that I'd usually be in and out in less than a minute, not particularly drawn to look closer. Instead, I stayed awhile and had fun. The jade gallery was also amazing - I had no idea there were so many different colors, textures and patterns of jade. The Chinese jade artists (and others) seem to love to carve the most tiny and intricate creations. Miniature astonishments. It was heaven. On their website they have ten pictures from their jade collection on display and when you select one it takes you to a zoom function where you can see all over the detail beautifully.

One day we decided to leave the concrete city and go to a seaside town at the end of one of the metro lines. The town, Tansui or Danshui, is located at the mouth of a river which drains into the Taiwan strait, that separates the island from China. There are a couple of forts there from times past and we climbed way up a hill to visit one of them, Fort San Domingo, prompting me to ask, huffing and puffing, "why do they always have to put forts up on a hill?" (ha ha). A bit of a surprise awaited us. An exhibition about Canada:

Former British Consulate at Fort San Domingo in Tansui

Yes, Canada=Hockey. No point in arguing. How about those Canucks!

Dr. Mackay, the inspiration for this exhibition, seems to be famous in Taiwan. He was a missionary from Ontario who arrived in Taiwan in 1872 and spent 29 years there. Here's what the exhibit had to say about him:

The first interaction of Dr. Mackay and the indigenous peoples in mountains was direct and friendly, which moved Mackay to start preaching among the indigenous tribes despite the danger and difficulties. The activities of Dr. Mackay and his followers in the Kavalan tribes usually started with visiting ill people from door to door. Then, they stood in a plaza or on the temple stairs and sang the songs of praise. Next, they pulled patients' teeth, gave out medicine, and preached at the end of their charity work. Because of Dr. Mackay's missionary work, he found people who were suffering from illnesses and relieved their pain. He won people's love and friendship for the mission. Hence, the Kavalan people became Christians in less than two decades.

Museum of Tansui fishiegoodies - Fisherman's Wharf

One thing I've noticed in my travels - there is a museum for EVERYTHING.

On our last morning before leaving for the airport we hopped on the Metro a couple of stops to visit the weekend Holiday Jade Market and the adjacent Holiday Flower Market, huge enclosed areas under an overpass. During the week the area is a car parking lot but on Saturdays and Sundays it is totally transformed into eye candy markets. I loved the Flower Market with its neat and immaculate open booths, where Taipei families and couples stroll leisurely along the main walkway, many with dogs on leash, browsing or buying shrubs and flowering plants for their gardens or terraces. The colors, and much more, took my breath away:

No Room at the Inn

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 08 May 2011 07:40:00 +0000

Yesterday someone came and bought and took away the queen size bed in the guest room. It's so empty now. The first sign of dismantling of our home in Manila.

So for those who have been thinking about coming to visit over these past 4 years but never got to it - and you know who you are - Too Late. See you in QBBC.

We're off tomorrow morning early to fly to Taiwan. I'm looking out my window now, late afternoon of the day before, at typhoon rains. Oh oh. (See The Trip from Hell).

2 Months and ...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 05 May 2011 00:35:00 +0000

... counting.

Source

I'm keeping up with all the news in my soon-to-be new home in small town British Columbia through a newsfeed from the local on-line town news site. Apparently on Friday morning 2 ducklings were rescued after falling into a storm drain and were returned to their mother. I'm not making this up. This is news.

Meanwhile back in Manila, the thought of leaving just gets weirder and weirder. I did make a list of things I had to do to prepare and while I have done a few things on it like call movers to get estimates, I have also found a great way to get around a to do list. Don't do it. I peered at a few things I had on the list, paused, and asked "Do I REALLY need to do this?" "No?" Cross that off. What a sense of accomplishment, getting through the list by not doing it. The best thing that happened was my shredder broke and I don't want to buy another one here (220 volt). So instead of torturing myself by going through files and papers and stuff, I'm not. Good intentions good riddance. I don't seem to be working very hard at this moving stuff, at least it doesn't feel that way. I go to pilates, go to the gym, go to lunch and play mah jong. But I have stopped buying toilet paper in bulk.

However, there are moments of almost sadness when I realize that something I'm doing or some place I'm going to is for the last time. I look with something like envy at some of the newly arrived people at mah jong, knowing that they will have so much to see and will likely change so much.

So here's my next list (Appreciation for the first 6) of 2 more things I appreciate about my life in Asia:

Source

Flowering Trees. It's summer in Manila and that means that all the flowering trees are out in all their glory. I'm soaking it all in as we drive through the gated villages with their big houses and fabulous gardens. Huge flame trees with yes, flaming, red flowers, frangipani with white, pink or coral flowers, some kind of tree with massive yellow flower dripping off the branches and many others I have no names for. The bougainvillea, always amazing, is in bloom this season, with shades of pink through purple, bushes intertwined. Sometimes you see one that is so old and so robust that it has climbed way up another tall tree, so the masses of color are high above. When I'm home I have a bird's eye view of the neighborhood, so I can see all these bursts of color among the greenery. Gorgeous.

Cheat. These bougainvillea are actually in Thailand in the garden of a former king's summer palace.

Orchids. A few years ago I found a big garden center in Manila, a place where there were many outdoor shops and nurseries in one huge compound. Included were at least a dozen orchid sellers. I can buy blooming pots of orchids for $3-5 apiece. And I do. A dozen or so at a time. My house can be completely filled with orchids, so inexpensively that I was treating them as cut flowers. When they stopped blooming I'd give them to a friend who lived in a house with a garden to put in the back forty until they rebloomed, because after all, orchids can be kind of boring when not in bloom. (I'll be smacked by an orchid grower for that remark. I used to be one).

Anyway, one time when we were off traveling for a few weeks, Rebecca the Maid started putting the pots after blooming out on the balcony and began to take care of them. Good care of them, as they are thriving and reblooming. Every day she is out there watering, fertilizing, probably talking to them and they love it. She also took over care of the kaffir lime plant that I bought to use the leaves in Vietnamese cooking and was mostly ignoring, and since she took over it's now growing little limes on it. Green thumb.

Each of these potted blooming orchids will cost between $30-45 back in Canada. So, massing them all over the house will be one indulgence I will have to bid adieu to. I'm enjoying them while I can.

Next week we are off to Taiwan. This will likely be my last trip. No doubt when we get back we'll be down to counting the weeks.

This is definitely weird.

Royal Wedding

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 30 Apr 2011 08:10:00 +0000

The last time, 30 years ago, it was 2:00 in the morning when I woke up to join the rest of the world to watch The Royal Wedding, sitting on the floor with my roommate Kelly, glued to the tube. This time, the Manila time zone worked in our favor as it was a most civilized 6:00 p.m. on a Friday evening. Loved it all, of course. Like so many I have a very soft spot in my heart for Her Boys. Much better dress this time too. On the new Duchess, I mean. He looks good too.

The Queen even stole my look in her yellow finery. I was perched on the leather recliner drinking root beer dressed in yellow pedal-pushers, yellow T-shirt and yellow flip flops. (Such is my normal attire in the fierce light of the tropics). I didn't begrudge her. She looked great.

I did notice something a little curious. Among all the clergy (guys) on stage were two women, nuns it would appear. I couldn't help but notice that amidst all the wedding finery, these two gals were dressed in grim, boring gray. The guys, on the other hand, were strutting their stuff in gold and red brocade embellished with ribbon, embroidery, buttons - the whole shabang. I wonder why the nuns get stuck with drab.

A good time was ~~worn~~ had by all.

Princess Beatrice

Signs of Laos

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 09:52:00 +0000

And you also better watch your step!

This sidewalk is in the capital city of Laos, Vientiane

The bridge to Don Khon Island.

If you decide not to jump after all, this awaits on the other side:

We spent an afternoon walking around Don Khon Island after driving through a road between rice paddies to get there. It looks like a place to go back and stay for a few days. There are lots of guest houses, it feels beyond relaxed, and unlike what the guidebooks say, it DOES have electricity (and cold Beer Lao). Power came to Don Khon a year ago. We spoke to some people who stayed there and apparently it's a good base to visit the Irrawaddy dolphins on the Cambodian side of the Mekong and hang out on the river. Don Khon is on the Mekong in the far south of Laos, near the Khon Phapheng Falls and the Cambodian border.
Speaking of Falls...

This scene is from the observation deck at the Khon Phapheng Falls, which actually stretch 13 km long in a series of huge rapids that make the Mekong impassable. The French sent expeditions up the Mekong looking for a way to navigate the river all the way up to Tibet where it begins. A clear river trade route through French Indochina to China would have been a very valuable thing to have. But they were thwarted by these huge and powerful falls. We were there in February which is dry season and the river was very very low. It must be even more amazing during rainy season. The French eventually tried to solve the problem of the impassable falls by building a railroad alongside them to transfer goods from one part of the river to the other. It operated for a little while as a very imperfect solution. We saw the old French locomotive abandoned on Don Khon Island.

Speaking of dry season, here's a shot of the road we travelled in the Bolavens Plain, visiting coffee and tea plantations and a few of the waterfalls.

Tat Yuong ("Tat" means "waterfall" in Lao)

Pharmacist

This is the pharmacy at the ethnic market in Bolavens. An impressive variety of dried seeds, twigs, leaves along with dried wildlife body parts and potions. Our guide was able to translate and tell us what a few things were and what they were used for.

Every part of the forest is used by the upland people of Laos and for sale at the market along with all the things "Made in China". Away from the markets, for those in villages too far and remote for their people to regularly travel to market, traveling peddlers bring the market to them.


Traffic. A shot through the van window as we passed by on the road.

Old friends - A retired mahout and his former charge. Paul Wager

Appreciation

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 02:29:00 +0000

I have a pretty good idea, especially after my recent trip to British Columbia what I'm looking forward to when we return in a couple of months, but now that I am back at home in Asia thoughts turn to the things I love about my life here. When people ask me how I feel about leaving, I usually say that I'm not dwelling on it. You could say I'm resigned to the inevitable, as it were, and the new adventure ahead, so what's the point of having regrets or feeling bad about it?

However, that being said, a little appreciation helps me stay grounded in these days of an uncertain state of betwixt and between. Half the time I'm thinking about things to do in Manila, the other half I'm thinking of what needs to be done across the Pacific. Whether I will miss all this when I'm gone and living a different life remains to be seen but for sure there will be so many things to remember.

So here's today's list of 6 things I appreciate about my life in the East West and Upside Down:

Mangos. I start every morning with mangos, without fail. 1/2 cup of good yogurt, a cut-up mango - put it all in the blender with a few ice cubes and away you go. I'm sorry, but the Mexican mangos in the supermarkets at "home" just aren't good enough. Philippine mangos may just be the best in the world. I would certainly argue that case.

The View. I love living in our home in the sky. After almost four years of looking at that sunset over Manila Bay, I am still in awe, each and every evening. What a treat this has been.

The Gym. At the bottom of the elevator shaft is the gym - the cardio machines an absolute must in this life where you can't walk or otherwise get any exercise in this hot, horribly polluted city. The convenience of having this makes trying to come up with excuses not to do it nothing but silliness.

Brenda. Brenda is my pilates instructor. I go there twice a week and look forward to it. I'm getting stronger all the time, my posture has changed, I'm taller where once I was shrinking, and all those aches and pains have vanished (well, most have vanished, after all there is all that inevitable mileage to face). Brenda is Canadian from Vancouver and the first Fletcher Pilates instructor in Manila. I am SO impressed with her and have loved this practice for several years now. Very high on my list of things to do is to find someone to continue with, but Brenda will be a hard act to follow.

Brenda

Laos and others. I will miss the ease of visiting southeast Asia. I will miss the ability to go to Laos whenever I want relatively easily. I will miss being immersed in Asia, in all the colors, sights, sounds, tastes and smells (the latter often the scent of sewers and fish sauce). I will miss exploring all the art and design and collecting the textiles and other art pieces that make me happy, sometimes meeting the artists. I will miss the elephants.

Friends. I will miss my friends who come from all over the world and have such interesting tales to tell. In the past year or so, so many have left. They came from all over and they've left to go all over. It's been difficult to say goodbye and soon I will be the one to leave.

Garbage Can

Enough reflection, time to get back to work. This past week I have been tackling the accumulation of papers in my cabinet. Going through the files, sorting, tossing and shredding, I've come to the realization that my hanging file folder system is nothing more that a hanging garbage can. My first clue was when I went through a folder called "bills" and found a huge pile of little bits of paper, including if you can believe it, Starbucks receipts from 2008. This might take awhile.

3 Months and ...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 01:28:00 +0000

... Counting

I have just returned to Manila after my trip to Canada. I was away for 24 days but it feels like I've been gone for months.

What a trip this has been! Living out of my suitcase, I visited 5 cities/towns. 8 hotel beds, 6 flights, 1 train ride, 1 bus ride due to a diversion when a train derailed and lots of driving up and down Vancouver Island between Victoria and up-island. I saw my mother-in-law, The Boys and lots of friends along the way, some I hadn't seen in the 4 years we've been away. It was gratifying to see that they still remembered me. I crossed more time zones than I can bear to think of. I read this morning that it takes one day to recover from jet lag for each time zone crossed. I don't believe that but if it does turn out to be true, I should be out for the count until mid-April.

I was very discombobulated (technical term) for most of the time, and it seemed to get worse the longer I was there. What day is it? What time is it? Where do I go next? Not only did my computer and 2 cell phones (1 Philippines, 1 British Columbia) all have different times on them, I was there during the March 15th time change and every hotel room I went in to had a least one clock that hadn't been re-set. Why didn't I correct them myself? Well you might ask. I couldn't. The clock radio settings had me completely mystified and if I can't figure it out within the first 60 seconds, I give up. Fortunately I had with me a calendar print-out of my itinerary that I had to refer to constantly to figure out what day it was and what I was doing next. That was hard enough. Keeping track of hours was way beyond me. Perhaps I should write a song about "Does anyone really know what time it is?" Oh. Someone has.

It became obvious that something has shifted in my core temperature over the past years in Asia. In Canada, in March, I was cold the entire time, inside and out. West Coast drizzle cold, Ottawa winter cold and everything in between. To top it off, even the 13 hour and 40 minute flight home from Vancouver to Manila was freezing. I had to wrap myself in 3 blankets as well as my own wrap which is usually sufficient. I feel like I'm permanently chilled to the marrow and have yet to run the air conditioner. However I have returned to what is Philippine summer so no doubt in a short time I'll be complaining about the heat. After all, I am Canadian, and complaining about the weather is a national character trait.

Patti Austin

I lost a crown and a diamond along the way. I developed a huge crush on Patti Austin and sought out every old CD of hers in used music stores. Also following that particular path I found a fantastic concert DVD of the Quincy Jones 75 birthday celebration at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 2008. I've been bopping along to both Patti and Quincy's "The Dude" on my iPod all the way home.

Now back in Manila, we are truly into the home stretch. Our time in Asia is coming to an end. We are officially finished here on June 30th and will be returning to Canada shortly after. 3 more months, and counting. Although usually I try to avoid them, being retired and all, I feel "to do" lists coming on.

Dentist for the crown, jeweler for the diamond and surgery to remove and biopsy a nasty lump on my arm. Which reminds me of something. A friend of mine who used to live in Bangkok told me that it was fairly common to find her expat friends mysteriously disappear for a month or so just before they were scheduled to leave. Medical tourism, cosmetic surgery. Will I? Would I tell you? (Just kidding).

Reupholster a couch or two, design and have a couple of pieces of furniture made, get some remaining art pieces framed. I need to dispose of all the 220 volt appliances and get rid of a couple of large furniture pieces we won't take back with us. Although we did a huge purge before coming here, I still need to do it again, especially with all the papers and books and magazines that have accumulated over these years. Lots of clothes to give away. I need to find a mover, book the move and oversee that. Go to Taiwan. Go to Viet Nam. See my friends. Play mah jong while I still can.

"To do" lists are making me exhausted. Time for a nap.

A Look See

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 05:03:00 +0000

I just spent a week 'up island', as someone says, on Vancouver Island, in the town we will be moving to in four months. One of the things I was doing there was practicing living there, trying things on for size. That, and commencing the all important search for a new pilates instructor, hairdresser and nail gal. The important things in life.

Our new home is just up from Parksville on this map. I kind of like that it's not on the map.

I had no luck with the latter, which is a little worrying as even an esthetician and a real estate agent who between them know everybody, were unable to recommend a good hairdresser. What do you think that means? As far as trying things on for size, the place was nothing at all as I had seen it before. It is March and everyone was suffering from an unusual occurence, a spring that fails to come on time. Two weeks ago it even snowed - very rare for this time of year, or so I'm told and it had better be true. I heard that many people go south in the winter, usually some time in January and/or February and indeed I had noticed quite a few tans in town.

For the entire week I was there it rained. It drizzled, it paused, it rained harder. The place I stayed in was in the woods and the glistening cedars with showers pouring from their leaves, reminded me of those rains in the woods at the cottage in Ontario so many years ago, although here the trees are much bigger. The smell from the woods was familiar, though here, on Vancouver Island, there is also that amazing smell in the air from the ocean.

I froze. I was SO cold ALL the time. Nothing I had to wear could begin to warm me up. I had thought that I would walk all the time, exploring on foot, as I do outside of Manila. Well no, not here. I was so cold and it was so rainy that I walked on the boardwalk along the beach only once, during a short break from the rain. Other than that I went from my heated room, to my heated car to a heated cafe or restaurant or store or wherever I was going, huddled against the cold and wet in between. And furthermore, I couldn't get the heat adjusted properly - up and down it went, off and on.

Welcome to the West Coast.

As I think of it, you could say, if you wanted to, that it's much the same as going from air conditioned condo, to car, to different other place in Manila which also means never going outside.

No it is not the same. At all.

This was good for me. Get those rose colored glasses off, not that they were attached all that tightly to begin with.

However, once I did get inside somewhere, and watched and listened to the few people out and about, I was amazed at the way everyone talks to each other. All the time. Chit chat. Of course, being a small town, many know each other, but not always. Everyone talked to me too, clearly from "away" with my Asian colors and Budget Rent-A-Car sticker. Grocery store check out ladies, gas jockeys (yes, there is a FULL SERVE gas station in town!!! Real Women don't pump gas, to riff off that, OK, old expression), and fellow shoppers. Today I went in to a restaurant for lunch and was waiting to be seated at the same time another gal was waiting. "Are you alone?" she asked. "Would you like to join me?" Well would I?! You bet I would. Enjoyed a nice hour over lunch picking her brains about what it was like to live here. "Call me when you move here, we'll have lunch again!" A friendlier bunch of people I've never seen before. Unsettling and intriguing. Where does this lead?

I've always lived in big cities. Or, more precisely, for most of the time, in the suburbs of big cities. Never a town of 8500.

I can tell this much. I am going to experience as much culture shock coming back to Canada as I did moving to Asia. And I would suggest, probably more. No surprises there.


Ha ha. Doesn't look like this tonight. This was summer!

I'm back in Victoria now in my favorite place by the water, (click on the video) which of course, this being March, also looks so much different from the times we spend here, mostly in summer, which by my imperfect count must be at least once a year for around six or seven years. Feels like a second home to me now. Today it is all gray and the huge, low clouds settle out over San Juan Island on the States' side. Gorgeous, nonetheless, and within 5 minutes of arriving I saw seal, otter, mergansor birds, gulls and more and more. For the next week I will visit friends, gaze out the window at this amazing view of the Haro Strait and go to The Mall to find a winter coat.

Because it's about to get worse. Next week I go to Ottawa. In March. I haven't seen snow in four years.

Source

Disguised

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 01:53:00 +0000

I'm in Canada right now and was reading "Canada's National Newspaper".

An article about Burma caught my eye. Written by a very Caucasian looking guy, it was about the plight of people with AIDS in Burma, not a particularly unique or interesting article in itself, until I got to the very end and read this, which made me laugh out loud...

Mark MacKinnon recently spent two weeks undercover in Myanmar. More in this series will appear later.

Hmmm. Undercover. Now that would be some trick.

Kawy Hak Muong Laos - I Love Laos

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 06:55:00 +0000

People have asked me why I go back so much. The perfectly logical question is "What is it that you like about it?" I'm always caught at a bit of a loss for a succinct answer - I say that I must get around to creating a "sound bite" answer. After some hesitation the words "quiet" and "peaceful" come out. It feels peaceful, it feels quiet.

Although as Kelly will attest to when we arrived, unknowingly, at the time of the the national festivals last October, the Lao people may be peaceful but they can be very far from quiet.

The view across the river from our hotel in Vang Vieng December 2008 - peace and quiet

The same river bank at the festival October 2010- our hotel room was right at the finish line for the boat races. Lao pop music played all day long and into the night. Two volumes - off and full blast.

Cows wandering in front of the stage, looking completely befuddled. The guy in red ran over to chase them away.

My "mission" on this trip was to figure out why I like it so much and why I keep returning to Laos. especially as there are still so many places in Southeast Asia I haven't been to yet. It is always a question of competition for money and time. Where to go next? Somewhere new? Or return to somewhere known?

“Why” questions are always problematic as answers are elusive. For example, why do I cringe and draw away from churches, yet I visit temples? Why does the sight of poverty in the Philippines drive me crazy yet I walk through it in Laos without the same kind of reaction? Why does lousy service make me nuts elsewhere but here I am ready to let it pass?

Laos is a country of great beauty. A country of lush mountains (and stripped mountains). A country of many many rivers, including the mother of them all, the Me Kong. "Me" is the word for "mother". It is a very wet, nautical, water dependent country despite the fact that it has no border with the sea. It is a country of waterfalls and green rice and vegetable gardens, of plains and karst mountains and stunning views.

But that doesn't explain it. This whole planet is gorgeous; where it is ugly is where people have made it so. Why Laos?

Well speaking of people, that could be a clue. There are none in Laos, relatively speaking of course. This country is the size of the Korean peninsula (73 million people) or Great Britain (62 million) but it has a population of less than 6 million people. This suits me. We've spent quite a bit of time on our travels driving through the countryside where there weren't that many people around. These mountain areas of the north are tough lands, not really conducive to larger groups living together. Rice fields are way up on the steep slopes of the mountains. Only one crop a year and for all the work of growing it in those conditions, the yields are lower than that of the rice grown in the lowlands. Not much has changed in some of these villages for hundreds of years, if not a thousand.

Village along the road to Luang Prabang

In these lands are trees. Lumber. A natural resource eyed by the country's neighbors. Also in these remote lands are minerals and the potential of building mines to extract them, also eyed by the neighbors. What could China or Viet Nam or Thailand or even further afield, South Korea possibly be wanting? Land and natural resources. Guess where most of the aid that is allowing Laos to develop is coming from?

Laos has a feeling of hope to it. That's the only way I can think of to describe it. Hope. And by that I mean hope for a better future. In the cities the changes are happening so quickly. Even in the few years that we have been going there, we see change always from one visit to another. Change that will ultimately transform the look and feel of these urban places significantly.

One huge project going on in the capital of Vientiane is the shoring up of the riverfront. When we first went there 3 years ago, the riverfront was quite charming in its way, with little barbeque open air eateries and places where you could recline on mats and mattresses and drink Beer Lao and watch the sunset. At Christmas a few years ago we lay on our backs and watched thousands of paper lanterns drift up into the sky. (Even these "fireworks" were Lao peaceful and quiet.) During a daytime stroll along the river we watched kids playing soccer on the sandbank revealed by the low water levels of the Mekong that time of year. Peering down the side of the bank toward the river you could see kitchen gardens along the banks of the river and small fishing boats tied to land's edge. Gorgeous bright red chilies drying in the sun caught the eye. Women cooked sticky rice or barbecued fish along the edge of the riverside road for sale to passersby. Vientiane take-out. It was all really charming.

The Vientiane riverfront in 2008

Charming yes, but the riverbank was eroding and flooding every now and then. The Koreans have donated $30 million worth of equipment and expertise to build up the riverbank and it is now unrecognizable from earlier days.

Double take. Here is the Vientiane riverfront in October, 2010 still under construction.

4 months later. Vientiane riverfront February 2011

The good news is the riverfront has been developed as parkland not condos. The little barbecue joints are gone but they seem to have relocated to the sidewalks on the other side of the road, including the reclining mattresses, but somehow I don’t think the experience is quite the same when you are lying on the sidewalk beside the road instead of on the banks of a river. Why do they bother, I wonder, passing by I never saw anyone on them. No doubt once the riverside is complete, the shops and buildings across the street will be the next target of change. Now, although really vibrant shops line the street, street food stands, convenience stores, clothing, travel agents, ATM's, and there is a lot of activity, the buildings are kind of run down. That side of the street facing the new waterfront is ripe for development of cafes and boutiques and shops to cater to the growing number of tourists visiting Laos.

There were four months between my visit to Vientiane in October and February and the difference was so apparent. As well as the riverfront development, on the side streets running off the river road, lots of renovations had been completed, new restaurants opened and new construction begun, including our own charming brand new hotel half a block from the river.

I have a Canadian friend who lives in Vientiane with his Lao wife. His house is not far from the river and his neighbors in the village on the river's edge used to infuriate him with their habit of tossing all their garbage in the river. He tried to get a garbage disposal system going with them, getting the elders on board and even providing waste containers and paying for garbage pickup. It didn’t last long. They started to use the bins for bathing instead and kept tossing the trash in the river. These neighbors are now being relocated as the land by the water has been expropriated for the riverside reconstruction project. Turns out this has actually worked out quite well for my friend as not only are the messy neighbors gone, his own property is now instant waterfront!

For now, you can still walk along the quiet unpaved streets just 10 minutes from the hotel to find local villages along the Mekong, very peaceful. As of now, but likely not for long, there are still places where we can sit by the Mekong and watch the sunset over Thailand from our Vientiane riverside watering hole.

Grumpy

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 09:55:00 +0000

Thai Tour Bus - Pakse

Luang Prabang was very different this February trip, high season for tourists. My last two trips were in October and July, another story entirely. This time there were lots and lots of tourists, which I expected, but what was even more apparent was that there appear to be a lot more tour groups. People traveling in packs. It was not just in Luang Prabang, we saw the same thing in the south in Pakse and places beyond.

A couple of years ago when I first started visiting, I was very nervous about all the articles coming out in American and European magazines and newspapers about Laos being the "hot new destination". Seems I was right to be concerned.

The old town of Luang Prabang is a World Heritage Site and it's supposedly not possible to build new hotels within the boundaries (although from the look of things some "renovations" may be stretching the term). This part of the town is a peninsula, bounded by 2 rivers, the Mekong and the Khan and accommodation is mostly guesthouses and small hotels. This is where we like to stay, right in the middle of town, in a little hotel has only 8 rooms, therefore not many other guests. $80 a night. On the outskirts of town are where all the new, fancy, expensive hotels are located, so if you like the pool and the space and all, that's where you stay, and that is indeed where most of the tour groups put their customers. It's a hike from there to get in to town, hence the tour buses and vans and tarted up hotel "tuk tuks" that now line the streets. Instead of the single or pair of travelers doing the "Luang Prabang Stroll" along the streets of the town, now there are also the groups of people following their guides in and out of temples and whatever.

One night we walked into a restaurant known for some pretty good Lao food to find that on the first floor there was one long table set for about 22, and upstairs two tables of about the same size. The noise levels from groups that size are intense. Intimate dining anyone? Well, not in February it seems. Lao has become trendy.


Table for...20?

My biggest problem with all the travel I've been doing is with the other travelers. For the most part I have zero interest in them. It brings a chill to my bones to hear that inevitable opening line, “So, where are you folks from?” Oh shit, here it goes. As far as I’m concerned people just talk too damned much. Endless blah blah blah. When in Laos I’m far more interested in talking to Lao people or at least foreigners who have lived in Lao for awhile, than listening to foreigners natter on about their own lives back home. Sounds of silence are best.

Source

This leads me many times to some pretty anti-social behavior. Don't make eye contact. No smiling allowed (this is a tough one as I usually have a huge grin on my face in Laos). Don't appear approachable. The second best present I ever received was my noise canceling headphones, a must-have for traveling in boats or vans or buses with other tourists. I spent an entire afternoon in the lounge of our Mekong boat, tuned out, listening to Led Zeppelin on my iPod (had almost completely forgotten how great they were). I keep iPod and headphones close. On one horrific bus trip a couple of years ago from Vientiane to Vang Vieng I was forced to listen to a bunch of travelers natter on and on and on about their real estate in California, their probate problems with Mom's estate and, of course, a critique of everywhere they had been so far on their Southeast Asian adventure. Where was my iPod? In my suitcase strapped to the roof of the bus!


The temple across from our hotel in Luang Prabang - Morning Alms

One of the things that Luang Prabang is known for is the monks' morning alms procession. There are more than 30 temples in this small town and the monks are a very visible presence. At 4:00 a.m. the temple drums start up, presumably to wake everybody (!) up to call the monks to early prayer. Then at around 6:30 the gongs start gonging and the monks leave the temple complexes to walk the streets, barefoot, with alms bowl in hand to collect sticky rice from the local people. There is a ritual to it. The women get up very early, wash and dress up in their sinh skirts in preparation for the alms giving, which is a way, in their Buddhist religion, of making merit. Women cannot stand above a monk, so they sit on mats, with feet tucked behind them, reaching up to put an offering into each alms bowl as the monks pass by.

The trip last October was the first time I bothered to get up so early to see the Luang Prabang morning alms. Our new-found hotel was just behind the main street and in front of a few big temples, so the monk walk passed right in front. It was cool from the night air and still pretty dark with only some dim street lighting, and there was a heightened feeling, a sense of anticipation as the few people out on the streets waited for the monks to show. All of a sudden, out of the temple gates they came with a swishing of those distinctive orange robes, the "sun in the dark", as my new ex-monk friend told me the robes were called (Ock Pok Tok). I can see why. The monks move at quite a brisk pace through the dark streets. It is not slow and stately, not at all. I think I may have an idea why. The monks have a morning meal after the alms. They eat again at noon and then that's it. They don't eat again until the next day - only water, tea or coffee (no milk). My theory is that they are so hungry that they move quickly to get it over with so they can have breakfast. These are, after all, mostly teenage boys.

There were some funny moments. At one point 3 bunny monks came running out, late for alms. Running, trying to adjust their robes on the fly, they came to a screeching halt at the opening of the wall, stepped on to the sidewalk pretending to be decorous, and then power walked their way down the street to catch up with their compadres. If you also look closely, you just might happen to see a bit of boy pushing and shoving. It reminded me of that time in Vientiane when I saw the monk alms for the first time and thought of Halloween (Pak Bat-Morning Alms). On that peaceful morning in Luang Prabang last October there were a few other tourists like me watching the scene from the other side of the road, a respectful distance away.

This past trip to Luang Prabang, in February, I once again got up early (as I was already awake) and went downstairs to the street in front of our hotel to watch. This time the scene was very different.

The monks were still there doing their morning alms walk as they have done for centuries, the Lao people were there, cleaned, showered and shaved, passing out sticky rice. The difference was the tourists. It was a fucking nightmare.

Van loads of tourists are brought into the town from their hotels to view the spectacle. Unfortunately they themselves become the show and not in a good way. The sight was so horrific I turned around and went back to my room. I was so upset I couldn’t even bring myself to take a picture. No worries, others have:

Source Lauren Girardin

Long lines of tourists were taking part in the ceremony as well as observing. Their hotels had provided them with mats and bowls of sticky rice for those who wanted to participate. They were yakking away, you could hear every word from across those dawn streets. Some women were standing up doling out the rice, and of course as western giants were heads and shoulders over the monks heads, a big and I might say well-known no-no. Those who weren’t themselves giving out “alms” were up close, some on the same sidewalk as the monks getting in their way with camera flashes going off in the monks' faces. It was a revolting human circus.

This was not part of a Buddhist ritual, rather it was 'let’s get up early and feed the monks'. No understanding of the ritual, no sensitivity, no manners. After it’s over, pile back into the vans and let’s go off for cappuccino. Or better yet, let’s go visit the morning wet market and gawk at all the yucky things the locals eat. Then when we return home we can tell all our friends about how we experienced the authentic Lao experience.

Wait, a rant is all well and good sometimes but allowing these people to upset me does no good whatsoever. Hell, they have no idea I'm upset! They don't even know I exist! Deep breath.

So, when in Lao…bor pen nyang. It doesn’t matter. No problem. I will let this go and get over it. Release this angry heart. Perhaps in their next lives these rude clueless people will return as grains of sticky rice, squished in the chunky, grimy fingers of other tasteless, heartless tourists.

"Serenity Now".

Note to self: Stay away from Luang Prabang in high season.

Ock Pok Tok - East Meets West

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 26 Feb 2011 11:24:00 +0000

One of the things I've been doing on my travels is taking classes in whatever catches my fancy including cooking classes in Hoi An-Vietnam, Luang Prabang-Laos and Istanbul-Turkey. They've all been great experiences - learned a lot, had fun and ate well.

This trip to Luang Prabang I did something I had been wanting to do for some time, but never quite got around to it before - a day long class in silk thread dying and weaving at Ock Pok Tok. I had never even touched a loom before so this was going to be all brand new.

Weavers at Ock Pok Tok - the Professionals

My ride

The first hint that the day was going to be outstanding was when I showed up at the shop in town at 8:45 a.m. to be transported by tuk tuk to their weaving center a few kilometers away on the banks of the Mekong River. I found, to my complete delight, that no one else had signed up for the class this day – meaning I had a day-long private lesson with the total attention of the weaver teacher and the English speaking assistant. What a treat. And no fellow foreigners to have to talk to or, worse, listen to, a subject I will no doubt return to "in the fullness of time".

Win, the interpreter, is a former monk in Luang Prabang. He left the monkhood, or whatever you call it, just a few months ago after spending 5 years at the temple as a novice monk. He is 19 years old and wants to go to university, which he couldn't do had he stayed to be ordained. He misses being a monk, but monks can’t go to university. He wants to study IT or “electricity”, which I think he meant electronics or electrical engineering or something like that. This job as guide at Ock Pok Tok is his first job ever, and I think he probably got it because not only does he speak English, but he also knows quite a bit about weaving as he used to help his mother who was a weaver of cotton in the north. "Such a different life you have now!" Yes indeed. I asked him what the monks thought about all the tourists at morning alms in the town. Did it bother the monks to have all those people being around and taking pictures of them (and behaving like assholes, I didn't say)? Oh no, he replied, it doesn't bother them. They realize the visitors like to take home souvenirs in their photos. How tolerant. How very monklike.

Win offered to take me on his day off, Sunday, to visit his friend who was still a monk so I could learn about the monks' lives and ask any questions I wanted. What an opportunity! Alas, we were leaving Luang Prabang before then so I couldn't take him up on it. It reminded me that I had seen organized "Talk to a Monk" programs in some places, where for a specified couple of hours on an afternoon a week, you can do exactly that for, I'm sure, a small donation to the temple. One of the temples in Chiang Mai had a sign promoting it. Would be interesting I'm sure.

Boiling cocoons and removing the silk threads

At the weaving center, Win and I started the day by going through the silkworm process, which I had seen before in earlier visits to silk manufacturers in and continues to fascinate. The silkworms are fed mulberry leaves for a number of days, then when they started raising their heads, it's a sign they are ready to start wrapping themselves in silk strands to form a cocoon. These natural strands are either white or yellow. Before they become moths and bore their way out of their cocoons, thus ruining them for silk production, the cocoons must be boiled and the strands unwound.

Pounding annato seeds to make orange dye

Then the silk is dyed using all natural dye ingredients in the outdoor dyeing "kitchen" where pots of water are boiled over wood stoves. I learned to dye my own silk threads. For one batch I sliced and pounded turmeric root with a mortar and pestle to make a bright yellow. I made the orange monk’s robe color (known as “Sun in the Dark”), by taking annatto berries off a tree, removing the seeds and pounding them as well. Then we boiled the bark of a flame tree adding a few iron nails to make a deep red color.

My 3 silk strands drying in the sunshine after dyeing

There was a busload of 29 tourists there for a private visit and lunch that day, which meant that I lost my guide for awhile as all hands on deck were called for to serve the lunch. I was afraid that my wonderful solitary visit was to be disrupted but it seemed the best was yet to come. Instead of having to eat lunch with 29 western travelers from the tour I was to have lunch with Mrs. Keint, as her name tag identified her, my weaving instructor behind the kitchen in the staff "dining room". I had a wonderful time sitting low to the ground with the weavers, none of whom spoke a word of English nor I Lao, eating a Lao meal, Lao style. I was in heaven. Eating sticky rice by hand which is the only way to do it, spooning soup out of a communal soup bowl, watching everyone really closely to learn the dining etiquette. I didn’t have a clue what anyone was saying so I just sat there watching, as they chatted away solving all the world's problems, all the while with an enormous big smile on my face. It was perfect.

These 3 at the end of the table were having an intense conversation on rice quality. She is examining the sticky rice container (the lunch box) of the gal in red and comparing it to hers. They each bring their own rice in its woven container and then share the dishes on the table prepared there.

Keint set me up on the loom and sat beside me as I learned to weave my two-color placemat with center design, moving things up and down, side to side this way and that. No real clue what I was doing but lo and behold, by the end of the day not only had I actually completed a woven placemat with center design on the loom, I had also learned how to count to five in Laos to keep track of the pattern I was weaving. I taught Keint the English phrase “No problem”, which is the equivalent of the Lao “bor pen nyang”, and learned all about the life of my young ex-monk translator. I also have a new appreciation of the effort and skill that goes into all these beautiful silk weavings we’ve been collecting these past few years.

Great day by the side of the Mekong.

Win and Keint and my finished masterpiece

Flying Colors

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 09:45:00 +0000

Jon Anderson- Fimo clay

The first time I walked on to a Thai Air plane, going from Manila to Bangkok, I flipped out. Visual overload. The cabin was a complete riot of color. The seats and carpeting was a mix of deep purples, fuchsias and golds and the female flight attendants were dressed in gorgeous long skirts of woven silk topped with snug fitted jackets or shorter purple suits with bright pink blouses. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. It's the colors man. As you land and taxi to the terminal, you are presented with a corsage of 3 purple orchids.

That was almost four years ago, only a week or so after arriving in Asia. Thai Air was my first taste of Thailand and since then Thai design has always blown me away. Even the airport is, well, as wonderful as an airport can be, with heaps of orchids everywhere and huge statues of costumed performers arranged in vignettes of scenes from the Ramayama. I love the gold kineree statues and the bursts of bougainvillea along the highway on the way in to Bangkok. Once there it just gets better and better with fantastic art and interior design greeting you everywhere you look. Or so it seems.

On this latest trip on Thai Air going from Manila to Vientiane, Laos, I stumbled on to the plane after the usual excruciating airport experience, sat down, fussed with my stuff, pulled out noise-canceling headphones, silk wrap - all the usual in-flight stuff - and it was a full ten minutes before I remembered where I was and looked around at the surroundings. I hadn't even noticed any color at all but there it still was. Oblivious. Am I getting jaded? Am I looking without seeing? (Moron)

I've been visualizing Thailand and Laos as colors. Thailand is vibrant, the brights of the color wheel. Last time I was in Bangkok I ordered dozens of silk pillowcases in a whole range of gorgeousness that I associate with the place and that I completely adore. They are piled on couches and beds and we change them up every month or so, finding that the different hues change the look of the room in interesting ways and highlight certain art pieces differently.

The bed doesn't really look like this, there is SOME editing of color. I collected pillows from elsewhere to line up for their portrait.

Laos is full of color as well but it is a different palette. Still rich, it is more subtle and, I feel, more connected with the earth. I see Laos as earth-centered, with its mountains and forests and rivers and gardens. Terra cotta and smoke, temple maroon and gold. Laos produces the most outstanding silk weaving and we find outselves collecting beautiful pieces on each and ever trip over these past years. The silk threads used in the weaving are colored with natural dyes in our weavings at least. Turmeric root, rosewood bark, annato seeds, betel nut, breadfruit, ebony tree berries, tamarind leaves, indigo, iron nails and lac insect scum are all used to boil the silk thread into the most wonderful colors.

I've been doing an inventory of our Lao silk weaving collection (along with our other possessions) in preparation for the coming move and have been photographing each piece. (I'm using what is turning out to be a pretty good inventory program, developed by a guy in northern Virginia, for Mac only, available from him directly or through the Apple App Store). Here are close-ups of some of the wall hangings:

The Colors of Laos...

Back to Laos...Again

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 15:04:00 +0000

I'm back to Laos to figure out why it is I love it so much.

Back end of February.

New Year's Eve in Manila

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 08:50:00 +0000

This year, for the first time, we spent New Year's Eve in Manila. The last three years we have been away at this time, the first year to Victoria, the second to Laos and last year to Viet Nam. This year, our last in Manila, we wanted to be here to see The Show.

We were told that the fireworks displays, all over the city were something worth seeing. Fireworks are popular here. All through the year, every night somewhere in the city, there are fireworks. However, on New Year's Eve it is completely over the top.

Child buying firecrackers Source

Everyone seems to get in on it and there are a lot of really dangerous firecrackers sold on the streets in the weeks leading up to New Year's. There was a lot in the press about firecrackers. Every year people are maimed and sometimes killed from these things (as well as from guns being fired in the air). The group most affected and most likely to be injured are the male 10-20 goofball cohort, but also much younger children are often hurt. The press was all over it in the weeks before, urging people to be careful and printing gory pictures of maimed hands and fingers as warnings. Also there were articles about how to keep your pets safe that night when the noise is so extreme. Asthmatics, forget it, leave town.

The police also paraded their directives to the rank and file on TV and in the newspapers. Police were required to tape their guns closed in order to discourage the practice of shooting one's firearms into the air. The police. This is one of the more retarded things I've heard since I've been here and believe me there have been many. This may take the prize.

I particularly wanted to spend New Year's at our own home, which I felt would be the best front row seats in the city. We are on the 30th floor (more or less, it's kind of hard to tell with all the missing floors to accommodate one superstition or another). Our apartment building is shaped like a butterfly, or so the marketing materials say, and we have an unobstructed 180 degree, view over Manila and way beyond. Way across Manila Bay on a good day to the mountains in Bataan and out to the island of Corregidor. There are huge windows all the way around and the view is spectacular.

Here's an image of the floor plan of our place showing all those windows that I found on the building's website when searching for a photo of the building and views.

Photos taken from our windows:

What a night it turned out to be! In Manila the fireworks don't just go off at midnight as is the custom in some places. Here they started about 7:00 when it got dark and from our windows we could see little pops of sparkling color going off constantly all over the place, way way out in the distance, miles away.

By 11:00 after watching Martin Scorsese's concert documentary of the Rolling Stones, and afterwards listening to old Stones music CD's full blast, the outside show was intensifying so we took our, uh, bottles in hand (I was drinking virginal champagne cocktails, meaning no brandy) and set up the Sunset Viewing Chairs in the bedroom which has the best panoramic view of the city. It was unbelievable, I can't begin to describe it properly. The noise and lights and colors went on and on at full intensity all over the city for about an hour and a half. The Polo Club as well as the "rich folk" neighborhood below us set off amazing professional displays that were going off right at eye level in front of us. For awhile I took pictures with my little Canon through the window and was amazed later at the results...

It was so exciting, a thrilling sight and will be forever a memorable New Year's Eve memory.

Postcript: The fireworks were more or less over by about 12:30. By 1:20 I started to sneeze and had to go get an antihistamine as the smoke and fumes had apparently seeped through our always closed windows. When dawn broke, the sight of the settled smoke blanketing the entire city was quite something. No energy to go get the camera, I wonder why.

Purgatory

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 02:21:00 +0000

Last night I set up a deck of cards and played solitaire. Not computer solitaire, rather a real game with a real cards. I had to take a break and I needed something that was pretty mindless, completely non-technical and also something tactile. Love this image by Nickolas Muray of a woman in jail playing solitaire. Hard time.

'Cause that's just what this feels like. For the last week, with more to come, I'm in computer hell.

I bought a new computer on January 3rd to replace my dead machine. I find that some things never change. It's as much a pain to set up a new computer now as it was 10 years ago or more. Nothing seems to be going easily, not everything was backed up properly, things need to be found or recreated, I've installed new, unfamiliar software to learn and all and all I expect it will be quite some time before I've settled in. Perhaps even in my lifetime...

I don't need to explain (complain) anymore - I know I'm preaching to the choir.

Dreaming of a Turquoise Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 07:44:00 +0000

We have returned to Manila from our 5-night stay on the island, just in time for New Year's. This will our be our last in the Philippines and we have decided to stay in the city this year to watch what is said to be quite a spectacle of fireworks from our cocoon on the 30th floor.

It has been 2 years since our last trip to Palawan and again, it was one of the Getting There is Half the Fun trips. One hour plane ride, half an hour through rural Coron, then an hour and a half by banca through the turquoise blue seas. We found quite a difference though when we landed at the Busuanga airport. Since we were there last, they've built a new terminal and lengthened the runway, allowing for much bigger planes to arrive. Last time we flew a 19-seater turbo prop with the co-pilot sitting in my lap. At the airport when checking in they no longer put you on the scales as well as your luggage, a practice which had its own diabolical charm.

Mangenguey Island

The boat ride took us past islands and little beaches, fishing bancas and the occasional dive boat. We went past vast areas of floats, some large black balls, some cylindrical styrofoam. I knew it looked like some kind of a fish farm; I learned later that these are south sea pearl farms supposedly where the best come from. By the time we reached the island, I had an enormous smile on my face, blissed out completely by the color of the water and the smell of the air (fresh!). Within an hour we were in the water with masks and snorkels, me encased, skin almost completely covered, with long pants and shirt. On my last snorkeling trip I was burned so badly it took 2 months for my skin to recover.

The reefs just off the beach are great and I spent as much time in the water as I could. It being Christmas and all I couldn't help remembering the first time I ever saw a world below the turquoise water. I was 25 and spending the holidays with a friend and her pals in the Bahamas. Everything was new to me - the warmth, the breezes, the open living - how beautifully weird it was to me, the northern gal. One night we went caroling on the dive boat stopping at docks along the inland waterway. I thought at that moment that I never wanted to see another Christmas snowflake again. Christmas night was magic - traditional dinner and tree and all, but after dinner under the moon I sat on the dock and watched jellyfish hovering below. Later, I went diving for the first time and fell madly in love with that most amazing experience of finding that beauty - while being able to breathe! What freedom and also a humbling feeling of being the intruder, the watcher. The whole experience was joyful and magical. I went home and got certified and returned when I could.

Now many years later, I still love the reef and a turquoise Christmas is still my favorite.

"The colors, man, the colors" are my grinning words now every time I walk (or crawl, depending on the waves) out of the water after hovering over the reef. One afternoon off the beach to the Left of the Dock I found a lone parrot fish among a huge number of other species feeding along the far end of the reef. This guy caught my eye immediately, an audible sigh (which sounds quite strange in the snorkel), oh how gorgeous, and I followed him for 45 minutes or so as he munched away at the coral rock.

Later on the reef to the Right of the Dock (official name) I saw dozens and dozens together - my Left Reef Parrotfish buddy must have been a loner, an exile, lost, a rebel.

Other pals I stalked...


Oriental Sweetlips Source

and spotted a couple of Nemo's in the anemone...

Clownfish in Anemone

The Island of Mangenguey is owned by a couple of escapees from New York. She is originally from Barcelona, he is an American. They have drawn on their design, fashion, restaurant and construction backgrounds to create a tiny resort of only a few buildings and where they live in their own cottage by the beach. I know now what the term "paying guests" means as the place is so small and so intimate that it felt like we were houseguests. During our time there people came and went but there were only between 6 and 10 people, including us, at any one time. Meals were served around a common table in the totally open air main floor. No menus. You got what you got (which was always delicious) when you got it. Our host would mix the drinks and hang out for awhile chatting. Senora was hands-on supervising the staff in the kitchen. Outside the main building where the living and dining area is, the famous Winter Solstice full moon this year lit up the water like an enormous spotlight. The sound of the waves was its background music.

Main house, our suite one of two on the second floor.

Water Boat

The logistics of running a place like this are pretty daunting. Everything comes from Manila. Not only all the materials that were used to build the numerous buildings on the island, but now, ALL food and dry good supplies. One morning I commented on the bread basket, which was filled with almond croissants and pan au chocolate and treats. "Who does the pastry?" It all comes in from Manila, from the same bakery we use. Flown-in croissants. Water is a particular challenge. They have installed a desalination plant, but it isn't working properly. The technician is due to come January 8th. Maybe. Meanwhile, every day a little banca delivers four big heavy orange barrels of freshwater that the guys have to roll up from the beach, along the path past the house and up the hill to wherever it is they take it. Daily.

One of two cottages on the beach

I'm glad that Richard and Helena have chosen this life for awhile and are putting in the effort so we can come and do absolutely nothing, other than walk into the sea from time to time and sign the VISA slip. Staying there was exactly what I had wanted this Christmas - the luxury of total relaxation. That and a killer turquoise reef.

Happy Holidays

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 09:17:00 +0000

We are off to the beach for Christmas - our first without at least one of The Boys. All grown up now and half a planet away. We'll be suffering at a small island called Mangenguey in Palawan here in the Philippines. It is owned by a very colorful woman with a story and the resort is so small that if full, which I expect it will be, there will be no more than 12 people. House reef for snorkeling.

Happy holidays, my friends.

Santa from Dive Inspirations